


The Tin Man Series: The Adventures of Nick and Nora

by SueDNym



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Banter, Caretaking, F/M, Friendship/Love, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Robots, Romance, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8835256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SueDNym/pseuds/SueDNym
Summary: A lanky brunette with a wicked jaw finds herself on a yellow brick road to the Emerald City but a diamond in the rough my be more than she bargained for. A coward learns to be a lion, and a tin man learns he has a heart.   Together they both discover when all is said and done that there really is, no place like home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is practice for a longer fic I may work on if there's interest.  I have a bunch of random notes that I realized shared a theme so I thought I'd try to make something coherent.  It's my first time writing something like this so any feedback would be appreciated.  I don't have a beta reader yet so it probably has a lot of mistakes (though looking for one if anyone's interested). The story is also going to be disjointed since the intention is to play with the style I want to use, my first installment is to test trying Nick's “voice” to see if it works.  I'll also apologize here to those that looked at the title and might expect a lot of banter since the title is a play off The Thin Man Series and it's known for that. A lot of my notes are snappy diolauge and you'll get some I promise, but you won't find much of that this time around since I want to nail down the narration style first. I listened to this https://open.spotify.com/user/sergiosaldana545/playlist/0FwGP0A8r4h9dE0nlQaigq  while I wrote it, so if you like to listen to music while you read, it might make a good backdrop.
> 
> Update 5/29/2017: I pulled this story out of the series and made it a one shot titled "Rainy Day Blues" if you found this older post wanted to read more look it up. I'm leaving this one here until I start posting the actual Tin Man Series and figure out how to work AO3 but I told myself I have to finish writing 10 chapters out of the 14 it's at right now before I'll start posting.

    It was a dark and stormy night, the rad clouds were looming over Diamond City like a great specter crackling ominously, bright bolts of light flashing through thick clouds of eerie green, a reminder of the ruin wrought by mankind.  It wasn't the kind of night for any man to be out, or any synth for that matter. The irradiated rain was coming down heavy and thick, ticking off the tin roof hollowly like a clock marking out the hours no one seemed to care about anymore.  My internal clock struck 2:00 a.m. a useless reminder of late nights to a man that didn’t need sleep any longer, if you could even call him a man.  I sat at my desk, jacket draped over the back of my chair, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the thin trail of my cigarette my only company other than the case files beneath my metal fingers.  Ellie was off with that Travis kid from the radio station, too bad things didn’t work out for him and Scarlet but now that he had a backbone Ellie seemed to take notice and so did he. Good for them, it was about time the girl took a shining to someone that wouldn't end in heartbreak.  Sweet girl Ellie, and kind to a fault, but the girl deserved better than cold cases and colder sheets.  Loosening my tie, I leaned back in my chair picking up the file labeled “Vault 111” for the hundredth time since True Blue had skipped out with Piper to chase a lead.  I settled in, propping my heels up on the desk more out of habit than anything else, and took a long drag the ember at the tip of the cigarette glowing as brightly as the filament of my eyes under the shadow of my battered fedora. I scanned the pages of the file and tried to tell myself it was because I might find something I hadn't before, that something might click into place like a puzzle piece nobody knew the picture to anymore.  
   
    After 3 minutes and 21 seconds I tossed the file back down on the desk with a slap, it was a false cover and it couldn't have been more transparent. I had to face the facts, and the fact was that now I'd finished solving the case about the striking shadow, the black bird statue, the caps hidden in a toy doll, and just about anything else I could get my hands on, I had nothing left to fill my time but worry.  The dames had been gone almost a week now, with not even a word from Piper, and that woman usually had a whole lotta words.  They weren't supposed to be gone this long, just a few days, a minor lead.  They'd headed off toward Sanctuary half a day’s walk, a day at most. Even if they had gotten caught up at the homestead with Nora still trying to fix that damn washer dryer combo with Sturges or if they’d gotten sidetracked to defend one of the nearby minuteman settlements on Preston’s request, it still just didn't add up.  The more I thought about it, the more agitated I got, and that sinking feeling deepened in the pit of... well whatever it was that I had that passed for a stomach these days. I reached for another cigarette but my pack was already empty, nothing but dust motes floating around the opening in the lamplight.  I took that as a good a sign as any to get a move on, no use sitting around here re-reading case files I had already put to memory.  Reaching out to grab my tattered trench coat from the chair I paused, tracing the stitches of a patch Nora had carefully sewed on after that run in with the super mutants in the radio tower.  Sure hoped everything was alright, I shouldn't have waited so long.  Don’t get me wrong, if anyone could handle herself out there it was Nora but something about the whole situation just wasn't sitting right and I'd learned long ago to listen to my gut.  Tossing on my jacket I stepped over to the filing cabinet pulling out a rusty drawer and grabbing a fresh pack of smokes, a few extra power cells, and some stimpacks for good measure before stuffing them into my pocket and heading to the door.            
   
    I hadn’t so much as reached out to turn the knob when my sensors picked up the sound of footsteps drawing near. I pushed up the brim of my hat with the tip of my gun and tilted my head toward the sound, the action seemed like a useless gesture ingrained from some old cop but it was programmed to crank up my audio receptors without my having to manually run the application and so my processors went to work.  The steps approaching were heavy with a slight wet drag to the right, there was a quick sidestepping splash and the scrape of metal and leather against the wall, then a rustle of paper.  So much for that Nuka Cola Quantum add, what was left of it anyway.  The scent of blood and burnt fabric slinked in the air through the rusted crack beneath the door, and I could easily pick up the sound of labored breathing.  Injured then.  Close behind the first figure came the pattering of four smaller feet shuffling close in the wet, and a pathetic pleading whimper that could only have been Dogmeat. No question about it, Nora was back.  So much for my heroic rescue, a bit belated by the sound of things.  I couldn’t detect any clues as to Pipers whereabouts as things stood, but Publik Occurrences was closer to the city entrance than my old office off third. It was surprising Nora didn’t crash with Piper for the night, it wouldn't have been the first time and Nat was fond of the dog.  It wasn't like her to-  
   
    My thoughts were interrupted by a pitiful whine and the sound of blunt claws scratching at the door  from outside.  Better let the dauntless mutt and his pretty partner in.  The door creaked on its hinges as I pulled the handle and opened it, and there they were, a sad sight if ever I saw one.  I should have taken the red smear of a hand print on the wall illuminated in the stark light of the single hanging bulb behind her as fair warning, but still I wasn't quite prepared for the sight.    
      
    Nora looked like she'd been through hell and back, and knowing the trouble that woman managed to get into I wouldn't have been surprised if she had.  She was always pale but her classic ivory was white as a ghost, the neon pink light of agency sign flickering futility as it struggled to bring some color to her face, the sickly green of the rad clouds oozing down the alley only deepening the pallor by contrast.  Somehow her dark hair managed to stay perfectly coiffed in that shoulder length curled bob she preferred, I don't know how she managed it, but the rest of her looked like she'd been run through the wringer then dumped back in the bucket again.  The rain had washed away most of the blood but the cut across her forehead was still leaking profusely down the side of her cheek over a purpling bruise that squinted her right eye at the peak of her already high cheekbone. There were no less than three bullet wounds. Two to her left arm, her shoulder and bicep, the makeshift sling she'd manufactured from some old field hands clothes did absolutely nothing to hide.  The other gunshot was straight to her gut which she clutched painfully, blood oozing over the brown leather of her gloved fingers.  Yeah, I took a bullet thereabout once chasing after Colin O'Malley near Arlington Greens, the son of a gun hurt like hell, doubt hers felt any better.  The blue of her vault suit was black on the outside of her right leg from hip to calf from what was clearly a moltov cocktail, parts burned through to show the angry red flesh in places.  She was shaking harder than a mirelurk egg before hatching but I couldn't pick up if it was due to being soaked through with irradiated rain in the cold or shock from her wounds.  Dogmeat limped in on one leg, the poor mutt didn't look much better, like he'd gone a few rounds too many with a deathclaw in a tarberry patch then took a nap on a yao guai trap.  
   
    “What the hell happened out there Nora?” I demanded harshly, the worry roughening my voice more than intended.  
   
    “Dr. Sun already turned in for the night and Piper and I were all out of stimpacks.” Nora explained through gritted teeth.  
   
    I frowned in displeasure at her answer and narrowed my eyes. In response she leaned forward, her free hand on the door frame wearing the stern look on her face that she'd practiced to stop raiders in their tracks and me my more abrasive lectures regarding her safety.  Being banged up as she was only made the expression more intimidating, and I decided to drop the speech for now, if only for the reckless broads own damn good. I settled for a disappointed shake of my head, and grumbled, “Let's get you fixed up.”  
      
    Slinging her good arm over my shoulder, I helped her shuffle into the room and shut the door behind us with a kick.  Dogmeat whined with concern, tail low as he circled in front of us worriedly.  To ease the poor mutts troubles I made myself useful and pulled out a stimpack from my pocket, perking up the dog barked and nudged Nora's hand.  Nora broke free from my hold, wavering a bit as she righted herself to stand on her own two feet, “Here give it to me,” she commanded and I handed the thing over to her without a thought.  I realized then just how much some habits had become ingrained in me and kicked myself for the fact that somewhere along the line I had begun to take her orders automatically. Come on Valentine, where are your manners? Poor things weaker than a hatchling. I moved to help the gal out but she held out a hand, “Let me do it,” she said and it sounded like a plea, so I watched with a rueful smile while Nora, being the ever giving saint that she was, move to heal the dog first.  Taking a deep breath she gritted her teeth and reached for her conscientious canine comrade. Fresh blood oozed from her side darkening her leather glove and the edge of her sling even further and while she was pale before she was downright bluish now.  The needle wobbled erratically a few inches from Dogmeat's neck, and she bit her lower lip to try and steady herself.  I wasn't sure which was more painful to watch, the stupid trusting mutt just sitting there waiting like a fool, or the other stubborn animal digging her own grave.    
   
    “That's enough,” I growled harshly, “I don't know what you're trying to prove here but you're in no shape for this.  I might not be man’s best friend but I know a damsel in distress when I see one, and I don’t like the role reversal” She looked up at me with hurt in those baby blues of hers and I couldn’t help but feel like an ass. Christ who knew what she’d been through. I regretted the rough tone almost instantly. Giving her a self-chastising smile in return and re-calibrated my vocal modulation to something more soothing this time murmuring smoothly, “I got this Darlin',” there was hesitance, something must have happened out there, and I wondered briefly what it was as her obstinance ultimately yielded to the gentle notes in my voice and she stretched her hand out to me.  Carefully I took the stimpack from her trembling fingers and with the proficiency of a machine I administered the healing agent. Dogmeat barked appreciatively before glancing to Nora with a concerned whimper. “Don't worry. She's in good hands. Well er, hand anyway.”  A wet nose brushed my metal fingertips searchingly and I scratched the mutt behind the ear in return, “You’re right.  Still good for petting I suppose” the shepherd gave an approving bark before turning with a worried whimper to his master, ears flat against his head in sympathy.  
   
    “Go on boy.  You did good,” Nora commended in a rough whisper, and obediently the pup headed under the stairs to get some no doubt well deserved rest.  Exhausted, she leaned back against the concrete wall near the door, her shoulder against the filing cabinet, her head resting against the perilously perched cardboard box on top of it.  She was dripping rainwater and Lord knows what else onto the case files in the box beside her.  
   
    “Jesus Nora you look like something the molerat dragged in,” I quipped with a slight smile, trying to bring some levity to the situation as I pulled out another stimpack. There was silence for a moment as she stared blankly at the crooked painting on the wall behind me saying nothing.    
   
    “Not enough energy for a witty retort? From you, that’s rarer than a mild mannered radscorpion.” The tap of my metal finger on the syringe rang as hollow as the jibe as I cleared the needle. “Went clean through?” I asked with a gesture to the bullet wound in her stomach getting back to business, it was clearly the wound that needed the most attention.  Her eyes slipped shut and she nodded almost imperceptibly. I found a good spot near the entry point and pressed the needle through the thick fabric of her vault suit, “Here this outta help,”  I pushed the piston slowly in watching as her brows knitted tightly before easing somewhat.  Letting out a breath she straightened herself upright, some of her color was back but it would take a lot more than one dose to undo this kind of damage.  My memory banks helpfully supplied me with the data that there were precisely three more stimpacks in various locations throughout the office and two more currently in my pocket.  I readied another dose.  
   
    “Wait. The bullet in my shoulder.  Went in deep and stuck.  You're going to have to dig it out first.  The stimpack will just heal the wound around it. Probably already started to a bit... sorry,” she apologized.    
   
    I always hated that part, and she knew it, but if my metal digits were a constant reminder that I was less than human, the fact that most of my sensors were intact meant that at least they were better than forceps at finding bullets, “Sure, sure.  Let me just ah...”  
   
    Taking care to ensure she was stable against the filing cabinet and the cement wall. I stepped away to round the dilapidated desk and pulled open a drawer.  Retrieving my trusty screwdriver I tightened up any loose joints in my hand before trading the tool for a clear glass bottle of liquid bearing a shoddy paper label taped over the original orange one reading “Bobrov’s BEST Moonshine”.  Pulling out the cork I poured the strong alcohol over my metal hand to sterilize it, “About the only thing this rotgut booze is good for,” I griped, then with a pause I peered over to her beat up and bleeding across the room, “Then again, desperate times...” I lifted the bottle toward her in offering, and was rewarded with a fraction of a smile tugging at the corner of her full lips.  My coolant pumps stuttered for a half second.  Damn it all to Hell, even with her standing there half-dead soaked to the bone, covered in blood and ash, she was still a goddess.      
   
    “Ellie will have your head for that mess,” Nora quipped, her voice still strained but stronger now.    
   
    I followed her gaze down to the desktop where I'd made a puddle of moonshine that was slowly creeping toward the green desk fan from when I'd poured it out to disinfect my hand. “Well she's always telling me to clean-up around the place, can't blame a guy for tryin',” I  returned, using the ragged edge of my coat as a cleaning rag to mop up a bit of the fluid for effect, before sauntering back over to her Vlad's special still in hand. “Besides,” I continued smoothly, gesturing the cardboard box beside her with the bottle, “Look who's talking.  I hope there wasn't anything important in those files.”  
   
    Nora looked down at the crimson blood dripping from her elbow and oozing down the side of the filing cabinet, and splattering into the jumbled series of case files in the box below.  There was a growing pool of irradiated rain around her feet that was already soaking one corner of the cardboard box darkly.  She frowned, and shifted to move out of the way but her motion was cut short as she hissed in pain, gripping her injured arm and rocking forward.  
   
    “Hey now no swaying on your feet before you've even had a sip,” I cautioned, steadying her with a hand on her uninjured shoulder.  
   
    “Just give me that,“ she griped and snatched the bottle from me with her good arm, swallowing a hearty drought the likes of which would have impressed even Cait, before she handed the container back to me.  
   
    Placing the booze on top of the filing cabinet I shifted the sodden box out of the way with my foot clearing out our work space. I made a point to look down as I recalibrated my radial arm sensitivity to maximum settings, flexing my metal digits in an unneeded display of testing.  It gave her a moment to steel herself which she did, planting her feet shoulder width apart and straightening her back with only a slight gasp and a quickening of her breath.  Once her breathing slowed I lifted my head, and her practiced mask of determined resolve was back in place.  
   
“You ready?” I asked, already knowing the answer.  
   
“As ready as I can be,” she replied with a brave smile.  
   
“Let's get to work then.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read more, go to my story "Rainy Day Blues". I made it a separate one shot story from the series.


End file.
